


Amicitia

by evienne



Category: The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011), The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort-ish, Post-Book, not-very-graphic injury described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evienne/pseuds/evienne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus and Esca, an injured leg, the middle of nowhere. Some things never change. Bookverse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amicitia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nestra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nestra/gifts).



> Just a quick friendshippy treat; hope you enjoy! :)

“We should have told Cottia where we were going,” Marcus said, probably only to break the silence, because he wasn’t really saying anything that they both hadn’t been thinking. Or maybe it was just to give Esca a reason to do something other than grip with white-knuckled fingers at his leg and mumble absurdities about being nothing but an inconvenience. 

Through gritted teeth, Esca said, “Wouldn’t—have made much difference. She knows—we were hunting—doubt if the direction we were heading in—all that useful in finding us.” His voice managed to sound dry despite the strain in it as he added, “Empire—gave you—rather a lot of land.” 

Marcus had to laugh, and the feel of it eased him despite himself. “I never thought the size of the land would be something I would quibble with. Uncle warned me there might be a great deal more of it than money, and hinted I would be sorry for the fact later. Though I doubt this was what he had in mind.”

Silence fell again, but only between them. Marcus could hear the chirpings and mutterings of a thousand bushland creatures in the darkness beyond the small fire, the sound of night breezes ruffling the tall grasses and the low trees. Ordinarily comforting sounds, when one was indoors by a warm fire or wrapped in a warm bed; now they took on the guise of things far more sinister, bringing back memories of the nights he’d spent north of the wall in the company of Esca’s superstitions. 

“Stupid of me—” Esca began again, but Marcus silenced him with a hand.

“It was an accident,” he said firmly. “One that might happen to anybody. One, in fact, that happened to _me_ , if you recall.”

Esca looked unconvinced, but at least he did not disagree. He leaned forward, gripping his sore leg with both hands to try to ease the weight of it, jaw tightening visibly as he did so. The break was a bad one: although it hadn’t penetrated the skin (which relieved Marcus’s initial panicked notions of the break becoming poisoned), the bone was unmistakably shattered underneath, moving gruesomely whenever Esca shifted position. Marcus had entertained brief thoughts of attempting to set it himself with sticks and what cloth they could scavenge from their clothing, but the fading light, Esca’s white face and the conviction that there was a fair likelihood that he would get it wrong anyway had put an end to them for the evening at least.

“We’ll wait,” he said aloud, again making noise for the simple sake of it, “we’ll wait until morning, and then I’ll go back home and bring help, and we will bring a litter and carry you back to the house. Then we’ll have that leg set properly, and Cottia shall feed you until the storeroom is empty.”

Esca muttered something that sounded a lot like _unnecessary_ , and Marcus gave a tolerant smile, just as though they both meant what they were saying. Just as though leaving Esca alone in this state, in a place where wild dog packs hunted and wildcats (smaller, but just as capable of inflicting vicious injuries if they saw the need for it) prowled, wasn’t just a little short of murder. He let out a breath. It sounded uncomfortably like a sigh.

“You _could_ ,” Esca began. His face had a little more colour and his voice was less strained: perhaps he’d discovered a position for his leg that was easier than any of the others he’d tried since sunset. “They don’t hunt—much—in the day. Leave me the knives. I’m hardly helpless.”

“Every knife ever forged could be here, and your possession of them wouldn’t make the thought of leaving you any less appalling,” Marcus said. “Don’t be difficult.”

Esca smiled. “I was—trying to make it easier. Just—a thought.”

“Not one of your best.” Marcus ran his eyes over the leg again, considering. “I may have to splint it in the morning after all, if nobody comes. It will hurt, but not as much as my dragging you about with it undone.”

Esca nodded. The words were unnecessary: he was already perfectly acquainted with both the facts and the reasoning behind them. “I can stand it.”

“There’s no shame if you cannot,” Marcus said, fixing him with a firm stare. Esca was still afflicted with a bizarre need to _prove_ himself, as though he hadn’t done it several thousand times over in the five years they had known each other. It would be exactly like him to suppose that fainting during Marcus’s unpractised handling of his injury somehow meant he fell short of the absurdly high standard he maintained in his mind. 

Esca’s eyes gleamed with understanding and gratitude. “We’ll blame it—on your physicking.”

"Exactly," Marcus agreed. Neither of them was particularly looking forward to tomorrow: Esca to enduring pain, Marcus to inflicting it, but this was only tonight, and they had excellent company until then. He speared the bird roasting over the fire and offered it to Esca with his best attempt at a bracing smile. He felt it reach his eyes. “Invalids first.”


End file.
